


Reawakening

by BoxOnTheNile



Series: Genyatta Week 2016 [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Day one: Firsts, Genyatta Week 2016, M/M, Tactile Genji, Tantric Sex, Touch-Starved, vaguely anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8766979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxOnTheNile/pseuds/BoxOnTheNile
Summary: For the Genyatta week prompt: Firsts
Genji has always been a tactile person, but after his "death", no one wants to touch him anymore.
Zenyatta decides to fix this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Few quick notes:
> 
> Genji and Zenyatta are not in a romantic relationship at this point. It's, like.... friend sex. "Let me take care of you in a completely platonic way" sex. The romance will come in the next installment for the crushes/confessions theme.

Genji had always been tactile- rubbing the silk of his yukatas, pressing his palms into the ridges of tatami, trailing his fingertips across rough brickwork as he walked. He loved contact, too. When he was young, he was always clinging to _anija_ ’s hand. As he grew older, he found his desired- his _needed_ \- contact in racier ways.

Then he died.

Angela was brilliant. The sensors in Genji’s prosthetics and synthetic skin were an almost perfect match to human nerve endings. The small differences were barely noticeable. In fact, learning how things felt differently in this new body was _fun_. No, that’s not what upset him.

No one would come near him. Most of Blackwatch kept a respectable distance from him, and Overwatch itself barely knew of his existence. Jesse would bump shoulders with him, and Reyes would pat his back, but…

The casual contact Genji so desperately craved was a thing of the past. 

Eventually, he made his way to Nepal, to the Shambali. The monks welcomed him as any other pilgrim, politely and with endless patience. 

He met Zenyatta that first day, the omnic in meditation with his orbs in slow orbit about him. Genji’s dragon stirred in his soul, and Genji listened, sinking into a lotus next to the monk. Zenyatta had shifted so their knees brushed with each of Genji’s breaths.

Genji stayed.

Days stretched to weeks and months with Zenyatta, learning peace and forgiveness. And Genji was _touched_. Zenyatta held his hand on the way to the nearby village; leaned into Genji’s side when he laughed; brushed his hands down Genji’s arms, shoulders, back. Genji thrived under his teaching and touch.

Which, somehow, led to now: Genji stripped to bare synthetic skin and mechanical limbs, leaning back against Zenyatta’s chest. He trembled under his master’s hands as Zenyatta stroked them slowly, gently, over the curve of Genji’s hips and thighs. The touch was light, soft, and Genji’s breath hitched, evened out.

This wasn’t completely new: Genji’d had several lovers before who liked to take their time, tease him to the edge and hold him there, but this was different. It wasn’t about control. It wasn’t even about sex. It was about Genji, about easing how touch starved he had been. 

Zenyatta’s fingertips ghosted across Genji’s artificial labia, and Genji exhaled sharply. 

Zenyatta pulled away. “Are you still okay with this, Genji?”

“Yes, forgive me, Zenyatta. I was surprised, not upset.”

Zenyatta made an understanding humming sound and placed one hand in the center of chest. The other curled around Genji’s fingers. The hand on his chest slid down, warm and steady, to tuck back between Genji’s legs.

Genji had touched himself before, but this was the first time he'd had a partner since “death”, and it set all his nerves buzzing.

Pressure against his clit, hot and slick, and Genji sighed, relaxing against the solid form behind him. Beneath his skin, his dragon trilled her joy and the peace Genji was finding.

He was almost surprised to find that the hand in his own the one dominating his senses. Zenyatta was rubbing a thumb over his knuckles in a steady, slow measure. Genji synced his breathing to each stroke.

Fingers dipped inside him, and his hips bucked, rolled, and Zenyatta vocalized a quiet, surprised “oh.”

Genji couldn't help it: he laughed, breathy. “Is that not the reaction you wanted?”

Zenyatta’s answering chuckle vibrated pleasantly against Genji’s back. “I did not expect such eagerness. You have been done a disservice in your isolation, little sparrow.”

Genji tilted his head back against Zenyatta’s shoulder and grinned, squeezing the hand still tucked in his. “Little? My master, have you seen yourself? You are very delicate- _oh_.” A third finger had slipped in with its brothers, the stretch different in this body. “Wait, let me, I want to feel this.”

“Oh course.” The thumb on Genji’s knuckles continued its strokes, but the other stilled, holding steady as Genji shifted his hips this way and that. One angle had Zenyatta’s fingertips pressing against _something_ , and Genji moaned, thighs tensing to hold him there.

“Zenyatta, Zen- _please_ , I-” Fingers crooked, and Genji keened, clenched. He was hurtling to his end quickly, and he clutched at the hand still in his grasp. He trembled, pressing back into Zenyatta’s chest as steam hissed from his shoulder vents. The heel of Zenyatta’s hand pressed against Genji’s clit and he was gone, plunging off the edge and into orgasm. 

When he came back to himself, Zenyatta was watching him, head cocked in a show of concern. “You're crying, my sparrow.”

Genji sniffled, smiled. “I feel… I feel good, Master. For the first time in a while.”

Blue lights brightened in joy. “We will have to make sure that continues.”


End file.
